


Ain't no place for love

by nerdinessboundaries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdinessboundaries/pseuds/nerdinessboundaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory. Benny is set up to meet Dean Winchester and guide him to the way out. They forge an unexpected friendship. Benny POV. Eventually, just like in the show, they'll meet up with Castiel. There are suggestive DeanBenny moments. There will be suggestive DeanCas moments. (And there might be suggestive BennyCas moments!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First rule of Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltandtea_in221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandtea_in221b/gifts).



This place, it ain't like any other place. There isn't variation here. Topside, the sun shines bright or the night settles dark. The breeze dances on a spring day. Mornings are cooler. Shades are nice. Afternoon's are hot. The sun warms your skin. Even the dead warm in the rays of the sun. I can't say how heaven works. I've never seen it. If I had to say, to guess, Heaven is probably a cold place. Hell, I've heard tale, is mostly hot. This place, though? Here?

It's nothing.

It's not hot or cold. It's no where in between. It's not sunny or deeply dark. It's this overcast twilight all the time. Sometimes brighter, sometimes not.

Time. That's another thing about this place. There is no time here. There's no morning. No noon. No real night. No real changes. This is an eternal forest frozen on a day dreary sometime in the fall, just before the sun sets and just after.  
No time. No change. No hunger.

This place. It didn't take long to notice it. My first breath of the stale air was the first I'd taken in near a century without even the slightest twinge of hunger. A sweet relief nearly worth losing my head for. Well... That's a story for another day.  
This place? Ain't nothing but existing. There's no love here. No hate. No friends. No family. No great battle or quest for redemption. It's just existing and fighting to keep on existing.

I landed here hurt, angry, and confused. Ain't supposed to be nothing once your head is rolling on the floor and the one you love is screaming your name. Yet, here I stand on this soft bed of dead leaves, breathing this dead air and looking around at these dead trees.

Where do bad things go when they die?  
We go here.  
Purgatory.

I wasn't no sweet thing then. I came in swinging. Didn't encounter another monster for a while but when I did, I attacked and it felt good. Not just good. It felt great. It felt right. I hadn't tore another thing apart like that since my time as a newborn. Obliterated, I left that monster strewn in pieces. I looked down on it, wiped the sludge from my chin and set off to find another one. Wasn't no kind of plan. It just felt good to fight. It felt good to win. It felt good not knowing if I would win. It just felt good.

Truth be told, Purgatory's the happiest I've been... maybe ever. Things get simple here. The anger I came in with? Destroy enough monsters and that ebbs away. The hurt? Same. The confusion fades as you realize this place ain't got rules. It's whatever you want as long as you fight. Everything that was so important top side? That all just slides back. It slips further and further away from you till you hardly remember why it was important at all. And there's that added perk of no hunger. No thirst.

Ever felt more and less yourself at the same time?

I never felt more a vampire than in this place, where my base vampire drive isn't here with me. Without that hunger, there's no need to hunt. Now, I hunt because it's fun. Not to eat. Now, I hunt and fight because there's jack all else to do. Now, I hunt because I'm good at it. Now, I fight because I win.

Without hunger, without time, when this place is full of nothing but monsters just like me? What better way to stay entertained than killing everything you meet? And that's just what I did.

Then this place of constant sameness suddenly changed.

Imagine a place with no temperature. Imagine a place that's dead, through and through. Then imagine dropping a hot coal with a heartbeat right in the thick of it. That's the moment Dean Winchester landed in Purgatory.

There was the heat, the heartbeat, and a reverberation I could feel in my bones. For a moment, it was all in the same place, then the vibration blinked out, leaving just the heat, the heartbeat and the curiosity driving to hunt it.

I'd no more than felt the draw when I find myself on the ground, my body vibrating and a light, brighter and clearer than any sun, shining down on me like a spotlight. Center stage, I'm covering my eyes and cowering into the ground. Every part of my body humming. Then the voice, like nothing I'd ever heard before, says to me about Dean Winchester. Find him, it says. Protect him and lead him to the way out. Gives me directions. Says this spell, a way I can hitch a ride out with the human. Says to get him out, and alive, quickly. Then it's gone and I'm laying numb and near blinded thinking what the hell is going on. It doesn't last long, though. The vibrations, light, noise drawing every monster for a mile my way. I fought my way through an onslaught, every throat I ripped out wondering who this Winchester is.

I found him easy enough. Feverish drumming in the silence, how could you not? Every other monster near found him too. I hung back, watching. This kid, he's not soft. When I see him, he's already left a trail of dead. He's human, alright, but to see him fight you know there's monster in him. His jaw set, hard, his eyes burning yet cold. He fought bare handed and used the monster's own weapons against them. He moved aimlessly, skillfully killing everything he met. I followed him for a while, just watching. He fought fiercely. He moved through the forest with purpose. He sought out lone monsters and would question them, "Where is the angel?" No matter the answer, he killed them. He was righteous.

Outside of the question, he did not speak. He did not rest.

One vampire, he has her pinned to the ground, knee on her chest and her own blade to her neck. "Where is he?" the force in his voice, the blade pushing into her throat. She laughs, her vamp teeth out, this manic wide smile. "Where," he says more slowly, "is the angel?" The vamp, she retracts her teeth and spits in his face. The blade meets the ground beneath her neck and her head rolls before she could have seen her own saliva hit him.

He stood, running a hand roughly down his face. Wiped his palm on his jeans. He stalked a circle around the headless vamp then geared up and kicked her, hard, in the side. He tossed his shoulders and head back, face to the pale sky, and let out a growling scream. This kid, already so primal, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Sam!" he barked, yelling vaguely into the sky. "I don't know what is going on but you had better find me and get us out of this hell hole!" He dropped to his knees, then, and nearly curled in on himself. So hard, so cold, he's balled up like a child now. He says a name, I don't catch it, much quieter, almost to himself, "I will find you and whoever took you and I will kill them all. One by one. I swear to God." His fist hit the ground and he's on his feet again, moving through the trees.

I followed him until the right moment. Had I just walked up to him, he'd have fought me in a instant and that was a fight I wasn't willing to take after I'd seen the damage he could do. So I waited till I had an opportunity. He's fighting these two monsters and one's about to jump him from behind while he's manhandling the other. The kid's got it. He could handle it but it's a perfect chance. I come out, take down the second one and sink my teeth into his throat. The sludge is gritty, black, and tastes like shit but I've swallowed so much of it by this point. I tear the monster's throat out, then turn to face him.

Dean Winchester. This kid who is important enough that someone who is a light source wants him guided out of here and he's staring down at me with this cold glare. He's reading the situation faster than I can stand. I picked up the dropped blade. A weapon might be handy if this goes south. He's judging and weighing if I'm going to attack him. He's poised and ready to fight. If he comes at me, it'll be the first fight I don't want in this place. It'll be the first fight I'm sure I'll lose. This kid? He doesn't fight because he's bored. He doesn't fight because it's fun. He doesn't fight because he wins. This kid fights because he's got a purpose. He fights because he's got a drive. I don't want to go up against that. And, don't act surprised, I'm starting to like him.

"What?" I ask. "No 'Thanks' for saving your hide?"

"Sure." He raises a blade stolen from some monster. "I won't shove this up your ass." He isn't attacking and that's a good sign but his face is hard and he's still prepared for anything. This is going to take some smooth talking.

"Hmm. Awful strange way to punch your meal ticket friend." I step, gauging him and he steps, too. "I got something you need."

"Yeah, what's that?" I hear it but he could give a fuck less. He's already killed me nine ways from Sunday in his head and this conversation isn't really slowing him down. We're circling like wolves about to fight. I know what this kid is capable of.

"A way out." I offer, hoping he listens to reason but he just laughs.

"Even a dental apocalypse like you knows there's no such thing." He's casually pointing his blade at me and that's the sweetest thing anyone's called me since I dropped into this place.

"There is if you're human." His silence is deadly. "God has made it so." It's nearly a joke when I say, " At least, that's the rumor."

"Bullshit." He's said it but, oh, I've got him now. This dance we're walking, this circle, he's inching closer with each step. Predatory. He doesn't trust me. Hell, I don't trust him but he's hanging on my every word and this is the longest conversation I've had in a very, very long time.

"Suit yourself," I say with a shrug. "Maybe you've gone native. Maybe you enjoy being man meat for every Tom, Dick and Harry."

I laugh but he shifts. What I've said or what he's thinking, he's weighing if I'm telling the truth. Weighing if he's willing to work with me if I am.

"Prove it."  
"Nah, you're either in or you're out."  
"So you just want to guide me out of Purgatory out of the goodness of your undead heart?"  
"More or less."

"What's in it for you?"  
"I'm hopping a ride."

"What?"  
"It's a human portal, jackass. Only humans can pass through. I show you a door, you haul my soul to the other side."

"So you looking for a soul train?"

"Sure, if that's what you're into."

"How do I know this isn't a set up? How do I know I ain't gonna end up like your friend over there."  
"He was my friend. Now you are. First rule of Purgatory, kid: You can't trust nobody."  
"You just asked me to trust you!"  
"You see? You're gettin' it now."

There's that blade pointed in my face again. "First, we find the angel."  
Ah, I've got no interest running around hunting down this angel of his and besides the bright and shining voice didn't mention no angel rescue mission.

"Three's a crowd, chief."

"Alright," He jaunts forward, "either you're in or you're out."

Well, wouldn't you know? I'm in.


	2. Kid

It's awkward and tense and he ain't giving in. I don't expect him to but I'm thankful just the same that he's decided to follow my lead for a bit even if he hasn't decided not to kill me once we reach the end. I haven't worked with anyone since I set foot here and this kid is giving this fuck off vibe strong enough to rival the unnerving draw of his invitational thrumming heat. Like a signal, a beacon in the night, calling out a siren song to the deepest instinct in every monster here.  
"Come and get me," thump thump thump thump. "I am warm and delicious."

I bet he would be, too, but he ain't hard on the eyes, either. He insists we walk some five feet apart. He's taking my direction but he's out front. I'm looking at his clothes and realizing how long it's been since I've thought about clothing. Time has passed topside but there's no way for me to tell how much. He's wearing jeans simple enough but the cut is different than what I'm wearing and for the life of me I can't remember what the fashion was before. He's wearing layers of shirts and a jacket but that doesn't matter here. I've had this coat on since I touched down. Some more of that stuff that seemed so important topside and has slipped so far away that it's impossible to recall.

He's built hard and moves like a man made of ill intention and divine design. His face, chiseled from stone, this same hard ass expression. If I'm honest (and wouldn't I be an honest man?), He would catch my eye topside. Cleaned up some, a decent meal, and some way to relax that killer glint from his eyes, Dean Winchester would be a looker. He would even be pretty. He manages to pull off the covered in dirt and grime look as easily as if he spent his life living this way. Maybe I'm starved for companionship. Maybe he's just a handsome man.

I've got a few inches on him and plenty of muscle but that wouldn't make a difference. What he lacks in bulk, this kid, he makes up for it in ferocity and skill. A pack of three comes from the woods to our left. Without a thought, he's beheaded the first and is cornering the second while the third is coming up behind him. I take that one down, a fat dirty shapeshifter, hack it limb from limb. Between the heavy sounds of my blade hitting dirt through this monster's torso, I hear this kid demanding, same as always, "Where's the angel?" and I know without looking he's got that blade to a throat and fire behind those dead eyes. The monster doesn't make a sound before he's in pieces on the ground. Simple as that, this kid wipes the blade on the thigh of his jeans. He looks over, checking my progress, and I don't know if he's impressed or not but he gives this little head jerk in the direction Voice of Light has us heading and says,"You coming?" then turns before I could answer.

Well, then. I'm up slinging sludge from my blade and beating a trail behind him. Don't gotta ask me twice.

We've been quiet. We've covered ground but it mostly looks the same around here. Navigation is a bitch that I'd never thought about before. Never had a reason to wonder which way is which. We're picking our way through clusters of trees that look identical to the last cluster of trees we just passed. Just to see how he'd react I ask, "How'd you manage your way into Purgatory, kid?"

"Don't call me 'kid'."His flat response. It makes me chuckle because I know he thinks that's the end of that conversation.  
"What should I call you?"  
"Nothing. I'm not here to make friends."  
"Not tryin' to make friends, kid. I figure we might be spending some time together. It might be nice to know something about each other."  
"Yeah, no. We are not 'spending time together' and I don't want to know a single thing about a piece of shit vamp like you." He swings his blade into the nearest tree, anchoring it there in the bark and turns on me. "And do not call me 'kid'." That glare, if looks could kill. I smile, nod my understanding.  
"I'm Benny." The name feels strange on my tongue, it's been so long since I've said it out loud.  
He huffs, pulls his blade from the tree, turns and continues walking.

Seems word has gotten around about my travel companion, as well. We're meeting monsters now who know him by name. Come on us sneering "Winchester". There ain't time to chat but I'm interested to know if these monsters remember him from adventures topside or if they're hearing rumor down here and feeling man enough to take him on. The rogue human, killing his way through Purgatory. Aside from that daunting question, "Where is the angel?" he hardly breaks stride. He could stroll through and destroy everything here without a thought. The more I see him fight, the more I like him.

"How do they know you?" I venture after one fight that leaves 5 dead in our wake.  
"Hell if I know." He won't look me in the eyes. He's brushing dried gunk off his coat.  
"You know you are drawing them to us?"  
He eyes me with suspicion. His lips curl into a taunting smile, "And just how am I doing that?"  
I suddenly don't have the heart to tell him that just by breathing he's hand lettering invitations to everything around us so, instead, I say, "It's the humanity in you." It's a joke, in a way, and I'm grinning at the ground while I say it. When I look up, he's staring hard into me. There's a moment where the air is heavy around us and the tension is thick. I'm reminded of how I don't want to fight this kid and aware of how I may need to anyway. His gears are working, I can see him weighing just killing me now. Maybe his 'Sam' can get him out without me? But he finally says "Fuck you," before he turns and walks away.

"If you're into that," I grin but he's looking to kill again so I just follow.

He acts like he'd rather be on his own, maybe like he's been alone all along, but the way he fights let's me know he's used to having someone around. It's a thing of beauty, really, if you can call hacking a monster apart 'beautiful'. There's no hesitation in the way he moves. I've been fighting down here, only God knows how long, and I doubt He's cared about me in a while, so fighting is nearing my first nature. This kid, he's human, and moves so natural swinging that blade into flesh and meat like he's been doing it since his first breath. We silently settle into a method. When they come, we take out everyone except one he can pin down and question. As we fight our way deeper into the forest, he starts grabbing the first monster he reaches and "Where's the angel?" I know it's not anything but no one's trusted me in here and this is clearly trust. This kid. I told him the first rule of Purgatory and he throws it back at me. Of course, I kill everything coming at him. Of course, I protect him. Of course, I do. When his inquisition doesn't pan out, and it never does, he's on his feet surveying the damage I've done.

He grunts, a non committal sound of acknowledgement. "Let's go."

Slowly, I've closed the gap between us. I walk a little closer behind him after each fight until I can nearly reach out and run my hand down the length of his jacket.

"So," I say, watching his shoulders for a reaction. "This other half of your team back home? Sam?"  
He moves so swift, I see it coming but I don't want to fight, so I let him push me up against this tree, the rough bark digging through my coat into my back and his forearm pressed across my chest. He's stronger than I thought and I'm laughing, nervously, with his blade at my throat. "Hey! Hey, I didn't mean nothing by it, sweetheart."

"How do you know about Sam?" He demands, a fire blazing behind those grey green eyes.

"I might have followed you for a bit before I introduced myself and heard you yelling about him."

He's scrutinizing me and I don't know what he's looking for but the way he's pressing himself into me to hold me up against this tree is distracting. This touching, even threatening, isn't something I've had happen down here. I'm experiencing a fair few things with this Dean Winchester that Purgatory just ain't supposed to have happening. I'm feeling a rush off this closeness and I grin down at him. His expression changes slightly, maybe he can feel how my body has reacted to having him so near. Maybe he's wondering if I can feel his cock twitching against my thigh. Maybe he's new to this. Maybe he ain't but he stares at me, hard, and drops his blade. He backs away, releasing me, and I feel this ache and disappointment coarse through me.

He turns away. "Sam is my little brother. He's all the family I've got anymore." He shoots a look over his shoulder, one daring me to laugh, and I don't. "I've been taking care of him my whole life. We've always been together. We've always worked together." He takes a moment, checking my reaction, and I'm trying to relate but the closest thing to siblings I've had were my nest mates and I'm thinking that's not a fair comparison.  
"Right now," he says, "He's doing his damnedest to get me out of here." Those eyes daring me to challenge him. "But we'll go to your escape hatch, just in case."

I nod.

He adds, "After we find the angel."

"Of course."

The angel.


	3. Ain't no grave

We're covering ground when he turns to me. We've been walking nearly side by side. I keep a half step behind because we're just not there yet. He turns to me with a start then looks away again. Then he comes to a full stop.

"Benny?" he says and I'm standing beside him.

I nod. "What you got, kid?"

He cuts me this look, annoyed but holds his tongue. He shifts his weight, fidgeting with his blade like he's working through a thought. He makes like he has more to say but shakes his head. I've never seen this indecisiveness on him. It's cute and even though he leaves the thought unsaid and keeps on trudging through underbrush, I've got this smile painted on and a flutter in my chest. It's the first I've heard my name here in Purgatory. I follow a few steps behind with my chin tucked to my chest just to hide my stupid grin.

Out of nowhere, he starts to hum. Quietly, to himself but out here he may as well be wailing. Honestly, though, it's small compared to the sound of his heart beating. I don't recognize the tune but it's better than silence and it's upbeat. We're moving, trekking to the beat and I've picked up on the melody. I don't know why but I start to whistle it along with him. At first, he gives me this look, one maybe checking if I'm making fun of him, then he keeps on and it's just two guys and this string of notes on this path instead of a human with unreal fighting skills and deep seated trust issues hunting down an angel with his hunky vampire sidekick.

He stops humming and quietly sings a line every so often. I still don't recognize it, must be after my time. A heavy kind of sadness rolls up in my gut. I'm thinking about how long I've been here and how life just kept on ticking topside without me. Kid is singing, "...if these wings don't fail me, I will meet you anywhere. Ain't no grave..." then falls back into humming. I can't wait anymore, so I ask him, "What year was it up there?" He keeps humming like he won't answer me and I'm saying "I don't know how long I've been here, friend." I reach out and brush my fingers tips along his shoulder. He turns, quick, but isn't attacking or defending. "If you haven't noticed," I wave a hand at our surroundings, "Time don't work here."

He tells me the year he checked out and some quick math leaves me reeling. I take a step back and end up sitting in the leaves.

"What?" He's annoyed and concerned in the same voice. Is that what having siblings does to you?

"Fifty years," I say and it's little more than a whisper.

"That's nothing for a vamp." He's standing over me, blade propped casually on his shoulder and I can hear the dismissal in his tone.

"Fifty years is half my vampire life, sunshine. It's a good fifteen years longer than my human life, too."

"Ah," he kicks at some sticks. "I'm... I'm sorry. You know, for your..." He's searching for the word, his eyes travel up into the gloomy mist, " your loss, I guess."

"Hey, man," I say, because he's obviously uncomfortable. "It happens. Everybody's gotta die sometime." I try for a smile. I never meant to let my guard down like this and I'm feeling vulnerable. "Doesn't mean we gotta stay dead, does it?" I push myself off the ground and I'm looking down at this kid, his face betraying every thought and feeling rolling through him. If only I could identify half of them. He finally settles on what looks like hard ass determination and cracks a conspiratorial grin.

"I haven't stayed dead, yet." With a tilt of his head, those eyes glint and God damn it if I don't like him even more.

Still grinning, he picks up the song, again. "Ain't no grave," his voice is deep and full and delicate and he lifts his blade to touch his own chest, "can hold my body down." He turns and we're walking again, side by side now, me whistling this tune and him singing and this is the closest I've felt to anyone in half a century.

Who knows how much ground we've covered but it feels like it's been too long since we're encountered anything and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe my companion here hasn't made a name for himself that has the shit down here avoiding us. It's not like we're making any effort at all to hide and, really, nothing could hide this kid. I'm wondering what the rumors could be about this human and his vampire and it's tickled something in my mind. I wonder if it's gotten around he's hunting this angel and I wonder if anything else might be hunting this angel, too. It's slow but there's this realization that the vibration he landed with may be the angel he's after and I'm suddenly curious how they landed together and why he's so intent to hunt it down.

"It's Johnny Cash." He says, drawing me from my thoughts. "My dad spent half his life angry and gone but sometimes when we rode with him, he'd put in this tape and say 'Hey, Dean. The Man in Black,' then he'd wink at me. Dad didn't sing along to anything except Johnny Cash." He's watching where he's going and doesn't try for eye contact at all and I'm just following along but the name stirs some vague memory in the back of my mind. Some foggy memory from being topside and some song I'm thinking about when I hear that name. "Even then he was usually drunk."  
"I think I remember him."

"Who? My dad?" He's incredulous and the look is hilarious on him.

"No." I laugh, " No, the Cash guy. Did he do that one... what was it? Hound dog?" and he's doubled over laughing before I know what's going on. He's got one hand holding to a tree and his blade hanging and he's laughing, loud and hard. I'm confused and on the defensive, checking around us for incoming because this kid truly doesn't give a fuck. I reach out to lay a hand on his back but I think better of it. He get's jumpy when I touch him.

"You alright, sweetheart?"

He's gasping for breath and his heart is beating like a mad man running for his life. He pushes himself to stand and I can see tears streaming down his flushed face, "Yeah, man. Yeah." But his breathing is erratic still and he's giggling. He reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. I watch him, unsure what he's getting at and he says, "You just..." he falls into a fit of giggles again. "You just ... No, Johnny Cash did not do 'Hound Dog'."

He's working to regain some kind of composure, taking these deep ragged breaths and his heat is radiating all around us in spurts. I can feel it envelope me like slipping into a hot bath and where his hand is on my shoulder, like flames licking up my jacket sleeve. I feel a stirring, a type of hunger reawakening here in Purgatory, brought on by this unexpected touching. He looks me in the eyes and says, "That would be Elvis Presley, friend." Then he drops his hold on me and sets his feet in a ridiculously splayed stance and does this strange movement with his hips while holding his arms up."You ain't nothing but a hound dog! crying all the time!"he sings, while moving wildly. I'm grinning and he breaks out with " You ain't never caught a rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" and he shakes his legs and I'm laughing because he's so serious and into it and of course there's a rustling in the tree's behind me and like a switch been flipped we're spun round back to back. Without another thought I holler out, "Let's go, then!" and I hear this kid grunt behind me, a kind of half laugh, and I'm grinning and near giddy when this pack of monsters run out from all sides.

Don't you think for one second that I missed it.

He called me 'friend' and with that first monster, I grab her arm and throw her to the ground, swing my blade and with that satisfying sludged feel of it sinking into her chest, her face contorted in rage, I start to whistle. It's just some tune that came to me, I couldn't place it if I tried, but it feels good and I've slammed another monster to the ground when I hear the inevitable "Where's the angel" from beside me and I whistle my tune as I bury my blade into this monster's neck. Inside my mind, All I can think is this kid's voice saying, over and over, 'friend'.


	4. One taste of you

"You," I use my blade for emphases, pointing it his way, gunk dripping off the edges, "were a hunter."

He doesn't even turn around. "Yeah, and?" He's wiping sludge from his blade, running his hand along the flat of it then slinging what gathers on the ground.

I can't help but laugh, all the pieces falling into place and the irony of a hunter trapped in a place full of things he's spent his life killing doesn't escape me. "How does a hunter land himself in Purgatory?"

"It's a long story involving an exploding Dick."

"You have my undivided attention."

He's looking me over like he's not sure or maybe he's just thinking where to start. He's swaying, shifting his weight and the indecision flits across his face. Whatever he was thinking, he ends up holding up his blade and running his fingers along the edge and saying, "This thing- it's just as sharp now as when I picked it off that shifter."

I sigh. 'Friend' or not, he still doesn't trust me but I haven't trusted him with much, either so I guess we're still fair.

"Time. It doesn't work here. Without it, nothing changes. That blades gonna be sharp no matter what you do to it."

He's staring at me. "How do you mean 'time don't work here'?"

"You're human, at least in theory," and I'm smiling but his face has turned into that stony killer glare so I hurry and say, " but humans need to eat, and sleep, and they feel tired, right?"

His nod is slow.

"Well, have you felt tired? Hungry?" and he's saying "No," quick.

"But you've been here, fighting and we've been moving near constantly."

"And?" he says, like the rules don't apply to him.

"How long do you feel like you've been here?" I ask.

"A few hours, maybe." he says but he's working through it in his head. This kid may be pretty but he ain't stupid. I know he's working out how many fights we've had, how far we've traveled. How he hasn't needed to stop and rest at all, or look for food, or even retie his boots. "No." He's shaking his head and runs a hand over his face. "It has to have been weeks but that can't be right."

"Time," is all I say. He can work it out.

"How do we kill these things then? How are they dead if things can't change?" He asks and I've got no answer for him. I hadn't thought of that. I just shrug and leave him to his thoughts. There's a moment of silence then a type of dawning lights on him and he's asking, "Wait, no hunger? So... you?"

I shake my head with a smile. "Who would I eat down here, princess?" his heart is beating just a little faster. "You?" Then he's moving quick and he's in my face, challenging me, standing close enough I can feel his breath and I'm awash in his warmth. He's staring into me and If I had a soul I think he'd see it. I resist the urge to grab his shoulders and push him away- put some distance between us because having him so close makes things happen deep inside me and Purgatory ain't the place for that. Purgatory ain't the place for any of this but here it is, happening just the same.

"I'd like to see you try." is all he says but I know he's reminding me I'm as good as dead to him the moment he doesn't need me anymore. I just smile and nod then on a whim I tilt my head just a bit and move closer to him. He's tensed and his heart is racing, heat pulsing with it and every hair on him is on end. I can feel it between us, pressed so close together, that stirring I'd felt before. His eyes are cold and hard, watching me lean in and it's slow and intentional and daring when he lifts his jaw, elongating and exposing his neck. I can see the rush of blood just beneath his skin and there's that hunger roaring to life in me but it has nothing to do with blood. My teeth come out and I'm a breath away from laying my mouth on him. When I look his eyes are closed and it's like he's praying, standing like a stone but he's started to shake under me, just the slightest tremor, and the effect that has on me is rattling.

I open wide and breathe deep, inhaling the scent of him, tasting it, then I press my tongue to his neck. He's dirty and quivering and it's like a fire alight in my mouth. I can taste his defiance and anger and his stubborn will. I could get drunk from the waves of longing (and hate for it) rolling off him. He's sweet and bitter and every ounce fearless so I run my tongue up the side of his throat, feeling his pulse, thick and close, breathing his scent and experiencing a pure elation with every tiny shudder that shoots through him. Then I breathe in his ear, "That ain't gonna happen, sweetheart." And it takes every bit of will power I've got but I step back from him and turn away. I start to walk, leaving him there to recover on his own. I don't go far, maybe twenty feet, just enough to gather my senses and I see he's collapsed on the ground, curled in on himself again and giving his lungs a work out. His heart still hammering and his heat exploded around us like a bomb.

It's pure dumb luck nothing comes at us or maybe they are just scared but I know, as soon as I'm thinking straight again, that I've fucked it all up and lost my ride out. Finally, about the same time I can feel myself cooling down, He's up and moving and without a word. I give him a moments head start then I'm following him. I leave a good distance between us but I keep him in my sights and that's the way we travel for a good long while.

As we move into a darker part of the woods, I inch up closer until I'm just behind him.

"You can fuck off," he says and it sounds hurt and angry and makes some part of my stomach twist in on itself.

"Don't take it personal, kid." His shoulders twitch and I make myself another note not to do that. "I stopped hunting and feeding on humans long before I got here.

"Well, that's... that is mighty decent of you."

"Think of it as a lifestyle choice."

"I don't care."

"Look, I know what you think of me-" but he turns on me and his face is pure rage.

"You don't know anything about me or what I think!"

"Alright. Alright." I say, taking a step back from him.

"I don't want to talk about it. Why don't you whistle some tune and Pied Piper something here that I can kill."

"Whatever you say," and I pluck a few notes from the fog in my memory and try to build a song of it. The more I stir around in those cloudy areas of my mind, the easier it is to pull clearer memories forward. Maybe it has to do with this kid. I had joked about his humanity before but he might be reminding me of my own.

Nothing comes at us and I've dropped the tune long ago when we stumble into a tidy little nest of monsters in a clearing. He holds up his hand to me then walks in alone. There were seven of them. He took off two heads before the whole group was aware he was there. He took down another as she ran at him. The next either managed to get him to the ground or the kid just let him. For a moment, he was fighting without his blade, it had fallen from his grasp and was just a foot or so out of his reach. I made like I was going to come in, but he caught my eye from pinned under this monster and he reaches up with both hands, never losing eye contact with me, and breaks the monsters neck. He shifted over to grab his blade and got to his feet swinging. Two more heads hit the ground and he's got the last one backed up against a tree.

This kid, his eyes cut to me as he asks the monster, "Where's the Angel?" and when he laughs a response, the kid is still boring into me as he swings his blade and it buries deep into the bark of the tree, another head on the ground while the body crumples to rest. He turns and raises his bloody blade to point it at me.

I nod. "Loud and clear, brother."


	5. In the hall

We've been traveling in silence and I have no idea for how long or how far. We managed to find some monsters and He finally started letting me fight with him again a while back. Sometimes he asks me to whistle but mostly we work our way quietly. One time he said, "Benny, whistle me a tune." and I asked him "Why do you like it when I whistle for you?" and his reply was simply, "It helps me not think."

The monsters are definitely avoiding us. This kid and his ever beating heart, this ring of heat he puts out. What started as a siren call is now a warning bell and has made it near impossible to find anything for him to question. Sometimes, out of the blue, a group will come at us and he get's his chance but that's happening rarely, now and that's just as well for me. The more we travel, the closer to the portal we are, the closer to getting out and I could give two shits if we find this angel or not. I don't know why he's after the angel but I'm feeling pretty sorry for it, actually, for ending up on the wrong side of this kid. I don't know what he was like topside, being a Hunter I'm sure he wasn't a mewing kitten then, but down here he's a different animal and relentless with the, "Where's the angel?" every chance he gets. I can only imagine what he's got planned to do once he catches up to it and I hope we don't. I got no interest trying to wrestle with an angel. All I'm looking to do here is find the portal and get out and I still don't know if I've got a ride out once we get there.

I really fucked up.

Every so often he'd turn to me and say "Wait here, I'll be right back." and he would just wander off into the woods. I followed him the first time because I thought he was trying to ditch me (like I wouldn't be able to find him again?), but he was just looking for some privacy. He stood there, alone, with his eyes closed looking up at the sky and praying. At first it seemed random but I caught on that he'd do this every time we got into a darker part of the forest. He called it 'night' when we traveled through these places and I just shook my head because... Time. I guess he's working hard to hold on to some sense of normalcy. I can't knock the kid for trying to keep hold of his humanity. To hold on to who he is.

From a few feet ahead of me he calls back, "Benny," Still when he says it, I get this flutter in my chest. I hadn't realized how nice it is to hear your own name. "I need some noise. You know any Black Sabbath?"

I don't recognize the name but a few notes float up in my mind and I start with them. Slowly, the tune comes and I'm going through it. It's a fun one and I have a nice warm feeling attached to it.

He slows to a stop. "Do that part again." So I start at the beginning and whistle it through while I catch up to him. He hums along nodding his head. "I know that one," he says and turns to walk, humming, alongside me. He smiles for the first time in what has to be fifty miles. "What is it?" He asks and I honestly don't know. I sift around in the murky memories but nothing clear comes up. Just the notes and melody.

"I can't remember," I say with a shrug.

"You don't remember much," he says.

"Purgatory, friend. Stay long enough and it'll erase who you were."

"Hmm." He nods. "So you don't remember anything from before?"

"Not much. It seems the more I'm around you the more I remember, though."

"What's that mean?" The look he's giving me is something between angry and afraid like whatever I say will be wrong.

"I am thinking about it now instead of trying to forget. That's all."I say and it feels pretty smooth and must have been right because he relaxes.

"Oh." and he starts humming that tune again. "It played on this cartoon I watched with Sam when we were kids. He loved it."

"What was it?" I ask, enjoying that he's talking again. After so much silence before he dropped in here, you would think I could handle it but comfortable silence is a far cry from this angry silence we've been sharing.

"Inspector Gadget." He lets out a small laugh. "Sam thought that guy was a superhero and he would 'Go Go Gadget' stuff playing around the hotel room."

I chuckle and he glances my way.

"One time Sam asked Dad about it, I forget exactly but it was like, 'Why don't I have Gadget arms?' or some stupid kid shit like that. Dad said the Inspector had to have cut a deal to get all those attachments. I don't know if he was joking or not, now, but Dad never trusted him and didn't like that I let Sam watch it."

"You let him?" I asked.

"Yeah. I... Dad was gone a lot. It was just me and Sammy most of the time. It was my job to watch him- keep him safe. That's always been my job." The way he moves when he says this. His back kind of curls, his shoulders sort of hunch like there's this weight he's carrying I'm betting is about the size of his brother and I'm feeling a little weight in my chest for him because of it. This kid. "You have a brother?" he asks, maybe he's just being polite or maybe he cares but I'm searching and coming up with nothing.

"I don't think so," and it feels true when I say it but a little girl swims up to the front of my mind and her hazed blue eyes and brunette hair hanging straight around her shoulders rips at something inside me and stops me mid step.

"What?" He's turned, blade at the ready, searching the trees for any threat. He's half excited and half lethal.

"No, brother." Then he's looking to see and, it's written on him, it's clear the threat is inside me.

"What?" This time there's more concern there than I'd expected and he's moving closer like being near might be helpful.

"I had a daughter."

The pain in his eyes mirrors the grief in my heart and this is one memory I wish had stayed buried deep in the fog of Purgatory.

"I had a daughter before, "I gesture to my mouth and He nods his understanding, "and I had a wife." That memory isn't as clear but I can almost make her out. There is a sorrow building in my stomach and I'm not prepared to deal with it. "I had a family."

"You okay?" he asks and I'm not sure if I am. "Benny?" but I'm shaking my head and feeling myself leaning like the ground has tilted and I forgot to tilt with it. His hands are on my shoulders and he's fierce saying "Come on," his heat is flavored with fear but his expression is demanding. "Benny! You can't do this. Come on, man."

With his pulse pounding through me, I hear my self saying the memories as they come clear.

"She was six when I had to leave. She just started reading. She would climb in my lap and we would read the Bible together." I choke a little then ramble on," When I went hunting, I would be gone for days at a time, and when I got home she would run at me... wrap her arms around me. I would scoop her up and she would laugh. She would kiss my cheek and I would breathe in her hair, my... my Fawn."

"Benny, man," There's a pain in his voice that forces my focus on him. "We've all lost people we love. I had a family once... for awhile. They were..." He thought for a moment. "They don't even remember me but I remember them and I remember how hard it was to let them go. Benny! Benny! I had... I had a daughter, man. I didn't get a chance to be her father and She never got a real chance to live a life but she was my kid. But she's dead and my family has forgotten me. They're long gone. Those people are gone now man. They're gone." He's holding on to me and where he's touching me is burning hot and that helps abate the pain erupted in my chest. What he's saying, I hear it but I can't imagine it. This ruthless killer, this kid that's mostly monster inside and here he is spilling out all this pain and loss at me. I don't say anything. There's nothing to say. I look away, break eye contact, and try to shake his grasp.

"Look, I don't know if it's right but I think life just enjoys making us suffer." He says. "Everything you care about is going to be destroyed. Everyone you love is going to die and there's not a damn thing you can do about it, alright? You can't go back and change it. You can't do anything different. No matter what, everyone leaves you alone and shit falls apart and the whole world goes to hell and none of it is your fault but, damn, if it doesn't feel like it is." His grip on my shoulders tightens. "Now, we are gonna find that God damned angel then we're gonna find that portal and we're gonna get out of here and we're gonna do it together, got it?" I nod, slowly. "But for us to do that you gotta be able to hold it together and not freak out every time you remember something, okay?"

"Yeah, brother. Okay."

"We can just talk about it, alright?" He's still holding to me like I might try and run.

"Yeah. Of course." I say, then, hoping it doesn't scare him off, I raise my hand and touch his wrist. "Thank you."

There's this hitch in his breath and he nearly jerks away but he doesn't. He just says "Yeah, don't mention it." Then he drops his hands.

He's still watching me close, searching me, I don't know what he's looking for but I try for a smile. He doesn't buy it but he makes like we're past it and moving on and I'm thankful he turns away when he does because in the distance behind us I feel that vibration, the one that landed here with him, and it's strong but no where near us. I had a moment where I thought about telling him, but it is in exactly the opposite direction Oh Brightness of Vocal Command gave us to go and if I tell him I can feel this angel I got a feeling he'd drag me all over Purgatory chasing it. He catches my eye again before we start to move and he asks, "What? What now?" but I just shrug and say "Nothing." and I say a little prayer to that angel. A nice, simple "Run."


	6. Keep up

When he started, it was like a dam broken with a flood of words. He's talking and I won't stop him. It was simple at first about him and Sam and them growing up then he's talking about his Dad and some Bobby but never his mom. Finally, I asked about her and he says, "She died when we were little. Sam was just a baby." A moment of silence passed. A quiet respect shifting in the air between us. "She was killed by a demon. A yellow eyed demon called Azazel. Dad spent the rest of his life tracking that demon down to get revenge." He shook his head and fell quiet, maybe lost in memories. I gave him his space to think but the reality of this kid's life was landing on me heavy. I started to imagine his life where his father was a hunter and he had raised Dean to be a hunter, too. Of course he had and so much about Dean Winchester made much more sense. A dull ache settled in my stomach and I touched his shoulder before I could stop myself.

"I'm sorry, brother." but he's flinching under my touch and I regret the effort instantly.  
"Yeah," he's saying, brushing something off his coat sleeve and shrugging out from under the weight of my hand. "Me too."

Suddenly there are all these names I'm trying to sort and remember. All these people with lives who are real to him and important.

"Wait, so Sam's girlfriend was a demon? I thought she was murdered by Azrael?"

"Azazel, Benny, keep up."

"The same one who started this whole mess?"

"Yeah. Oh, when that happened." He gave a tiny head jerk to the side, gesturing to conversation long past. "Dude showed up that night to drip his demon blood into Sam's mouth."

I recoiled, reacting more to the the disgust in his voice. Demons don't need to make sense, though, and this isn't the worst thing I've ever heard. "How did you know about that? You were just a kid then."

"I found out later...Anyway, Azazel thought Sam was this... I'm getting ahead of myself. He did kill Sam's first girlfriend, though. Ruby was, I don't know, she had him convinced that he was doing a good thing by pumping himself full of demon blood. I love Sam but he can be stupid sometimes."

"Demon blood, huh?" and the connection isn't lost on me but he gives me a glance that stops my sniggering.

"Ruby really messed Sammy up, man. She was his friend. She was his dealer. She was his girlfriend. She was his teacher. He loved her. He honestly thought he was doing good."

I mulled on that for a few moments.

"How'd you get out of Hell, anyway?"

"I'm getting there." but he wasn't. He'd been telling me about everything leading up to Hell and now about Sam and whoever demon after Hell but nothing about Hell or getting out. He had danced his way all around it.  
"Brother. Hell."

"Okay, man. Okay. I remember Lilith and her Hellhound. That was all kinds of pleasant then I wake up in this box-"

"You don't remember Hell at all?!"

"Benny, seriously! Can I tell this?"

I raise my hands to mimic him when he's displaying conversational defeat. "You have the floor, my friend."

"Right. So I wake up in this box and have to dig my way out. Have you dug yourself out of a coffin, Benny? No, didn't think so. It's dirty and not fun at all. I walked to this little store down the road and ended up breaking in to get some water and food because I was parched, dry to the bone, man, and starving. I'm shopping when the whole place goes super sonic. The building was shaking and all the windows blow out. It was crazy."

"Sounds it."

"I steal a car and go to Bobby's. Once I convince him that I'm me it didn't take long before we tracked down Sam. He'd been... well, with Ruby."

"I thought you said he tried to get you out of Hell?"

"He did. No one would deal with him."

"Ah."

"So we track him down and I had to convince him that I was me."

"You live a life without much trust, don't you?"

"You can't trust anyone or anything up there, Benny. It's not like down here. It used to be everything was clear cut. It was either good or evil. But it's just not so simple." He glanced me over then continued, " Anyway, So Bobby knew this psychic, Pamela, who was going to contact whatever pulled me from Hell by touching on this brand-"

"BRAND?!"

"Dude, yeah. I had this gnarly brand on my shoulder in the shape of a hand. She's got us set at this table all holding hands and candles lit. She touches my brand and just calls him up. Then she says it, his name, and she..."

"What?" I ask but he's shaking his head.

"He didn't want to do it. She was summoning him and he tried to protect her but she refused to back down. It ... When she saw him, in his true form, it melted her eyes out of the sockets. Just liquefied."

"Damn."

"Tell me about it. But he told her he was an angel. She never trusted angels after that. Can't say that I blame her. But he didn't mean to do it..

"So who was it?" I have the niggling in the back of my mind and a tiny smile tugs at me while I wonder if the angel we are tracking here is this same angel but this kid sure is defensive of something he's hunting so it must not be.

"I'm getting there, man. Remind me when we get topside to never see a movie with you. Jesus, it'd be the opening credits and you would be asking how the movie ends already." I fall silent beside him and he looks smug. "That's better. So like I said, we were trying to find out who had pulled me from Hell and why. Bobby and I found this way to summon an angel which seemed sketchy at best. We spent all day at this old barn painting demon traps and shit on the walls from every monster and lore and spell we could find. It was actually kind of funny, getting to the rafters to do the ceiling but.. "

I coughed and he huffed.

"Fine. So we did the spell and waited. Then waited some more. It was hours before anything happened. The wind outside picked up and the roof is shaking and bits are blowing off. It was like a savage storm had just landed on top of us, man. I was terrified, to tell the truth. I've been up against a lot of shit but I had no idea what to expect. The doors to the barn blow open and, I shit you not, it's just this little nerdy, normal looking guy in a trench coat comes strutting at us but he's walking right through all our traps and the fucking lights are blowing out as he passes under them and- dude, it was the most impressive thing ever. He just walks up to me and, of course, I go to stab him with the demon knife and it sinks clean into his chest. Then he's staring at me with this look like I've told an amusing joke and he just pulls the blade back out and drops it." He pauses and glances to me. "Benny, I can't even lie, I was scared. Then Bobby tried to come at him and he just touches Bobby and the man lays down and, I didn't know, he could have been dead. So it's just me and this obviously powerful, lethal, unable to be harmed being and he says, dude you won't believe his voice until you hear it, he says 'I'm the one that gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.' "

I whistled in appreciation. "That's a damn good line." He hummed, non committal, but I'd say in agreement.

"Then he tells me he is an angel of the lord. That's how he says it. 'I am an angel of the Lord.' Hellfire and Brimstone. And his name."

"What is it?"

"What?"

"His name. You haven't said."

"Oh." and he is obviously thinking like maybe he doesn't even want to say it and I'm wondering if maybe he can't but then he says, "Castiel." I snort a little laugh and he just says, "Don't." and it's serious and heavy. I nod but this isn't making any sense at all.

"Why did he pluck your ass outta hell?"

"Ah, uh. God told him to. That's the best explanation I've gotten from him."

"God? As in the God?"

"That's the one."

"Let me get this straight. You land yourself in Hell by making a deal with a crossroads demon for your brother's life and God himself sends one of his own angels in to pull you out? Is that right?"

"Yeah, just about."

I'm shaking my head and can't stop the grin from spreading and it's his turn to, "What?" and I laugh. "Do you know how many people God has pulled from Hell?" He turns away and his shoulders hunch. "One," I say, the fact rising from the depth of my murky memories. "Other than you. And now, God's made a little escape hatch for you from this place. Brother," and he's still refusing to meet my eyes, "I think God's got something planned for you."

He's quiet for far too long and I'm afraid I've said something wrong. We're moving through dead leaves and grey trees at this steady pace with nothing but the thump of his heart to keep us company. From nowhere, he sighs and says, "That's what I'm afraid of."

He trailed off, paying more attention to the brush and leaves beneath our feet than they deserve and I'm left to try and piece together why Dean Winchester is so important to God.


	7. Bullshit

He's having a private moment. Those are happening much more often lately. If I'm not being respectful, and I usually am, but If I'm not, I can hear him.

"I'm fine." he says. "We're safe." He's standing, feet planted wide, shoulders curled in and head bowed. He's speaking, quietly. "We're heading for the way out but I'm going to find you first. I won't leave until I find you."

I'm crouched behind a tree and some brush far enough away I hope he doesn't notice and his words are hard for me to hear. He says 'we' to whoever he's praying to. I'm starting to think he's praying to the angel, the one from his stories, but I can't be sure because I was positive he was praying to the angel we are hunting, letting him know we're after him. It doesn't have to make sense. I've stopped trying miles ago to make any sense of Dean Winchester or his life. This kid, though, a praying man, like that's not enough, he's including me. Me and him. We. Us. He and I. We are a 'we' and it might be nothing but it's something to me. I've been alone so long, now, and really I was better for it then. I was stronger, faster, much more brutal but it's not even that. It's not that I'm weaker or slower or softer now because of him. It's that I'm thinking about who I was before and that maybe this person I am here in Purgatory isn't who I want to be. A vampire having an identity crisis, isn't that just adorable? All I know for sure is that I'm sticking with this kid and it sounds pretty reassuring that that he wants me to. 'We.'

He lowers his head and I can tell from his stance that he's got more to say so I'm quiet and waiting when the vibrations come on strong and it nearly knocks me to the ground. That fucking angel. He's close. He's so close. I almost call out for Dean to let him know but I can't, a vile bile rising up in my throat. With the vibration, I'm overwhelmed with the sincerest sense of sadness and loss. It's a pain so deep and pure, if my heart were beating, feeling this would cause it to stop. I'm trapped here, reverberating to the core, listening to the kid whisper prayers and promises and threats and this anguish that doesn't belong to me rolling through me like it does. Is this the angel he's chasing? This flood of emotional strife, is it the angel's? But just like that it's gone again, blinked out, far enough away I can't feel him and I'm saying a little prayer myself reminding him to run. Run little angel before my friend actually catches up to you. You think you're experiencing loss now? Wait till he's done with you.

I'm trying to right myself when the kid comes up behind me. "Benny?" and his tone is cautious, suspicious. "You okay?" I'm nodding, "Yeah, yeah." but his expression hardens, his face lowers a fraction, just enough to say, without it being said out loud, bullshit.

"Come on." he says and I'm trapped. I don't want to tell him about the angel but now I have to tell him something. We've spent too much time in each other's company and I know that look isn't going to move past the thought humming in his head until I assuage it with... something.

"I remember the night I was born." It rolls unexpected from my tongue and it's not actually a lie. This memory has been working it's way from the dredges in my mind for the last few miles. Slowly, I'd been piecing together fragments until I had most of it. The Old Man. Just thinking of him causes flares of hate and bitterness inside me. He was the oldest vampire I'd met and powerful, so powerful, and I loved him nearly as much as he'd loved me. But that was before...

"Born? Like...?" and he uses two fingers to point to his mouth then pulls them down in a fangs fashion, his eye brows arched.

"Just the same."

He shifts weight, then looks up and breathes deep. "Do you..." He purposefully stills and his eyes find mine. "Do you need to talk about it?"

His offer hits me. He's obviously uncomfortable but he's spent the last hundred miles telling me parts of his life story and it calms me to see his effort. This kid, he is trying to care about me. A vampire. Isn't this interesting? I weigh for a moment, should I share this or not? Because no vampire birth is a beautiful tale and it's about as personal as I could get but his expression has softened and his eyes are relaxed like he's actually open and I can't see brushing that off. This kid is full of surprises and seems to hit on my every soft spot because now I feel like I have to tell him just so it won't hurt his feelings and somewhere in the back of my mind I'm wondering what kind of monster I've become.

"The...He..." I start in earnest and I'm trying but the words won't string together and I'm choking on them building up in my throat. This kid, he puts his hand on my shoulder, that comforting burn, and says "It's okay. You don't have to. I'm here when you're ready."

I shake my head because no matter what this is something that he couldn't handle. "Brother, you wouldn't understand."

"You'd be surprised."

"No, kid. This is something that you'd just have to experience to get it."

"I know," and he's weighted the words. He lets go of my shoulder, his hand reaching to toy with his blade.

"You know? What does that mean?"

"It means," he says, and I can see him turning into the annoyed older brother before my eyes, "That I've experienced it!"

"Bullshit."

"Benny. Don't."

"No! Bullshit, Dean Winchester!" and I am angry, actually angry, with him.

"Look, it's not something that I want to sit and talk about, alright? I ended up in an alley with some vamp and he bit me. Then I turned. Simple as that."

I can feel my jaw hanging slack and he's fidgeting, a nervous little dance that might would be endearing any other time. "Not simple as that, sweetheart. Because you're standing in front of me and you're not a vampire."

"We were hunting this nest and I got bit, alright? So I got back to Sam and... I haven't told you about these guys yet but... Oh never mind that's not important. What matters is that we found an antidote. Like a cure. Only, it had to be taken before the first taste of blood. But we needed to get into this nest so... I didn't take the antidote. I let myself turn so we could get in. Then I destroyed the entire nest. I killed them all before anyone else could even come in to back me up. Then I took the antidote and let it clean me out. So don't tell me I won't understand, my friend, because I do."

He's messing with his blade, running his fingers along the broad side.

"There's a cure?"

He only nods, looking anywhere but at me.

"So you didn't..." I start, but it doesn't need to be said. This man before me was bitten, he was born vampire, then he was cured. Like a real life fucking fairy tale. There's no reason for me not to believe him but I don't want to.

"Look, man, I'm not trying to... I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk about it, that's all."

There's a sound in the woods behind him. Just the tiniest rustle of leaves. Our eyes lock and he seems apologetic but his features have hardened and a satisfied, smug smile is ghosting in the corners of his lips.

"Benny?"

"Yeah?"

"Whistle me a tune, brother."

As the first monster comes at us, I'm plucking up notes from a song he taught me miles back. I've got the melody but I only remember one line of the words he sang. "Take my hand... We're off to never never land!" and he's in his element. His blade swinging through the air, that monster didn't have a chance, crumpling to the ground then there's another behind him and three more behind that one. I've got my blade up and run to meet them. Four more follow those and I'm thinking to myself that something has changed here. We're being attacked and it is exhilarating. I can't help but grin, pleasure shooting through me, when I hear him behind me, "Where's the angel?!" followed by the blunt sound of his blade striking earth. "Where's the angel?" again and again and I'm swinging, a pile of dead falling around me.

"Benny!" he's shouting and I pull up short of slashing this last monster's head off. Instead I take him down, pinned to the ground, and Dean is kneeling beside us, his gravely voice dropped an octave, "Where's the angel?" But this thing doesn't respond and the kid changes tactics. "Why did you attack us?" and the monster stills. "Why did you," the kid's blade to the monster's throat and there's no need for me to even hold this thing down anymore, "attack us?"

"The angel." The monster breathes and it's his last as the blade cuts through and takes off his head. I'm looking to the kid with a question and he catches my eyes with his.

"That," he says, nodding toward the thing in pieces on the ground, "is some utter bullshit."


	8. Ice and pain

He ain't said a word since, not to me anyway but he had a steady stream of half finished sentences cursed and mumbled under his breath and I think he'd even forget I was with him still, sometimes. Like he was caught up in his end of some conversation or maybe an argument and it didn't matter it was with himself.

There were times I felt real close to this kid. Times like when we were walking and he was teaching me a melody from some song by some band a good thirty years past my time. Times when he'd tell me about Sam or Bobby or even that angel 'Cas' he calls him and I'd ask some question and he would think, like he was surprised anyone would be interested in him, then he'd smile when he'd answer and I'd remember how it felt to have a friend. Times when we were silent but the steady rhythm of this heartbeat and gentle waves of his heat would lull me into a nice complacent happiness maybe just because he was happy.

And then there's times like this where he feels so far away he may as well still be topside. His heart is thrumming like the battle we just fought ain't finished yet and his heat is crashing out in deadly waves. The eye of his own storm, so violent I'm near in shock that the trees around us don't bow down in his wake.

This kid is foreign right now. If he were a ship, I would know him inside and out. I could explain his every action and anticipate how the waves and wind would rock him. I could guide him by the stars and bring him through, maybe weathered and beaten, but whole and mine and I wouldn't be following him completely lost and bewildered like I am now. I can only think of getting him out of here. Mister Bright and Shining Voice wasn't exactly vague in his instructions but I don't think there's a soul, dead or alive, that can force Dean Winchester to do anything against his will. So now I follow along in his search for the angel and just make sure we're always headed toward the way out.

The angel. The angel. Before this kid dropped into my lap I wouldn't have believed in anything like an angel. I've seen my share of monsters and I've read myself the scriptures but some things are just too good to be true but this kid has two, now. Two fucking angels. One just pops into his life to yank him from hell and this one we're after I don't even know but how does he even get wrapped up in this? What do angels want from him? Why is this kid, this angry, self loathing, warrior, on God's radar?

But he is- path paved, apparently, to do some big God shit topside and he's bad ass and capable but he's still just a kid.

He's still just this mad fucking child mumbling ahead of me about how he's gonna burn this whole place down. That anger and passion pouring out from every roll of his shoulders as he needlessly swings his blade mid sentence. It's like watching an explosion from the wrong way around where the pressure fighting out just presses harder in and this kid is going to end up a lethal stone before he's done.

I don't know what to do and there's nothing I could say like I'm the china shop precariously perched near this bull and if I just keep still it'll pass and this confusion and fear for my friend would let up off my chest and let me breathe again.

I'm close enough to touch him and that stale sour smell of whiskey and leather clings to him from his time above but I wouldn't dare lay a hand on him now. He's near volcanic and I'm not sure how he'd react. So we're stomping through while he hand letters these invitations for attacks and I hear him saying "God damn it, Cas!" and there's this feeling in those words that I can't quite place but the shit that's rolling off of him is thick enough I can nearly taste the bitter, hopeless, helpless plea as he spits it.

I lick my lips and breathe deep because even strange, he pulls up a warmth inside of me. It's not the right time or place but this kid is wound so tight and it's a close second the thoughts I'm entertaining between getting us out and making him relax when he stops and says, "Benny, stay," like I'm his dog or something and he makes like he's going to keep walking without me and I know he just wants some privacy. I know he's just wanting to pray but... fuck that. Even Dean Winchester ain't gonna treat me like some punished pet so I, "No." The first time I've outright defied him, "I don't think so, brother."

"I'm not joking, man. I need some time." He turns to me, dead set on staring me down but instead I step into his space so we're nearly chest to chest and only inches between us, I can feel his heat compress around us, his heart nearly stops. Under pressure, this kid, he relaxes. Confrontation is really where he is most comfortable and no matter what, the fact that he has to look up at me makes me feel powerful even when I know this kid could kill me in a second but he hasn't done it yet and I wonder suddenly why that is.

His eyes are ice and pain and a green so sharp even the haze of Purgatory can't dull it. The pain, it's there, clear as his perfectly dirt smudged skin. I don't know why. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I've stepped into this without a plan and I didn't expect to see that hurt tearing itself into me through his solid unwavering gaze. "Talk to me," I say and it is less a demand and more a gentle offer. His eyes linger on mine, scrutinizing.

"Talk?" he says, "To you?"

"Yeah. Talk to me. You've been happy enough to tell me all these stories about your life topside and we've been a team so far but this one monster mentions the angel and you're off trying to fight this alone again."

He scoffs and it is nearly comical. "I'm not talking about this right now."

"Why not? Just talk to me, kid. I know I'm not your brother, Sam, or Bobby or Cas but I'm here right now and I'm all you've got so like it or not this vampire is the one you're gonna have this conversation with." His gaze cuts from mine and now he's thinking, looking off into the trees like some clarity or distraction will waltz in and make this easier on him. I lift my hand intending to catch his attention again and go to rest it on his shoulder but he's rolled that shoulder back and leaned away from my effort and he's wearing this look like he can't understand why I'd think that was okay. I sigh and shake my head because I expect it every time but I still try like some child with a broken toy pressing the buttons and hoping it'll work just this one time even though it hasn't before.

"Fine, sweetheart. You go pray and tell that angel everything you can't tell me. I'll just wait here."

I saw it coming and I let it happen anyway. This kid, full of anger and confusion and pride, throws his blade to the ground and that first swing his fist made contact with my jaw and with a shot of somewhat surprise and a feeling of flames bursting across my face, I was sent stumbling back three steps before I could steady myself. Even then he was on me with a punch right to the kidney and if I'd have been human that would have dropped me to the ground but I'm still standing and his expression is beautiful, this calm hate on his hard features. I just smile and laugh, doubled over as he lands another hit right in my gut, explosions of fire rupture across my skin every place he touches and the pain from his punches is minimal by comparison. "That's right, kid." I coax him through panting breaths. "Get it out." Just as he swings again, another hit right at my jaw and I feel my head snap to the side the heat like a bomb gone off and I'm falling and on the ground before I could blink. He's on me, sitting straddling my chest with his knees pinning my arms down like I've even tried to defend myself here? and He aims down hitting hard right on my cheek and it's there, there it is, the pain inside him painted across my body, blossomed on my countenance, and it hurts but it's not lethal and I still refuse to fight this kid so I just lay passive and let him land another hit into my cheek with a sickening crunch and I catch a glimpse, his features are contorted and tears are streaming down his cheeks. "There you go." It's a choked breath, barely mumbled. "That's it, brother."

He slams both fists into my shoulders, straight down, and lets out a shuddering breath that wracks through his entire body. The weight of him on my chest, that involuntary shake, "Talk to me," and it is hardly a whisper when I say it but he's choking back a sob and all he does is lean forward and rest his hands on the ground on either side of my head. His face inches from mine, tears start to travel down his nose and drip onto me. Tiny droplets of life, of love, of humanity.

"This is NOT his fault." is all he says, boring into my eyes, begging me to believe him. Begging me to challenge him. Begging me to believe that he believes it. I don't understand but I repeat it back to him.

"This is not his fault." and he looks so relieved I'm shocked but then I add, "It's not yours, either."

He has one of those moments. It's a Dean Winchester moment where every feeling fleets across his face and it is stunning then he just tilts his head toward me and, eyes closed, presses his forehead against mine. I feel like my entire being is on fire, his heat flushed through me, and it is the purest I've felt in over a century, and there are tears still squeezing through his lashes and falling into my eyes. He stays there for just a moment. Three deep breaths then he pushes himself sitting and then lifts himself off to standing. He holds his hand out to me and I'm uncertain but I take it and He pulls me up from the ground and proceeds to pat at my clothes like it might help get the dirt off. He speaks without looking at me, "I'm sorry." and I do it without thinking, I grab him fully and pull him into a hug. I wrap my arms around him completely and hold him and it is the first time he doesn't stiffen under my touch or jerk away and I just hold him and he just lets me.


	9. The pleasure

Imagine being dead, like the deepest sleep you've ever fallen into then know you ain't dead but the life you had before is so gone you may as well be. Ever had something happen to change you so completely it changes you to your very core? You couldn't go back to the way things were before no matter how bad you may want it.

Welcome to that first taste of Vampire hunger. A need so deep it overpowers anything else that is you. You don't get the pleasure of being just dead, you're something new. You're nothing like you. It's like you forgot but it ain't like forgetting at all. It's like you're being devoured from the inside out and you can't even want to fight against it. Like a virus is racing through your veins and you're running, pumping that heart to speed the virus along. Once you've felt that hunger, its the only thing you want to feel.

That hunger so fierce, feeding is your only friend. That feel of life passing between your lips, the warmth in your mouth and the Old Man at your back whispering in your ear about how perfect you are and there you are changed again. Whatever you were before is overwhelmed by hunger. Whatever you will be now is in his shadow and it don't matter that you had a wife and kid before. All that counts now is feeding and the Old Man. Generally, in that order.

In the end, I hated the Old Man nearly as much as he loved me. There at the start, I loved him nearly as much as I loved to feed. Nearly as much as he loved to watch me. Nearly as much as he loved everything about me that wasn't me at all, it was just him and that was all he wanted- a brutal killer, a reflection of himself, a still heart he could massage into a rhythm of his making. I was willing and eager to provide and his touch was enough to bring out a passion in me that I hadn't felt before him and I reveled in it. I had power. I was strong. I was fast. I was quick and good and brutal with the best of them. The best was I had his praise. That was it. I didn't even care anymore about that Benjamin I was before because I was His Benny now and I was better.

It was enough. The Old Man, the nest, the sailing, the hunting. For a while. There ain't much better than feeling like you belong somewhere. There ain't much better than fitting in but the Old Man, his affections started to feel empty, like he was saying the words and doing the motions but I started to see that he wasn't really saying those things about how great I was to me. He was saying them to himself and when I realized that, it was my first rebellion against him. The next was when I questioned hunting and then again when I stopped. The Old Man, the hurt and the anger in his eyes finally a reflection of me in him and I wanted him to feel that, to feel something that wasn't him, like maybe I could change him the way he'd changed me but he only turned away, disappointed.

Then, I met Andrea. By all accounts, she should be dead. But she isn't or she wasn't and she shouldn't be but if she survived for five minuets after I got here, well, just... I ain't a betting man but now that I know there's Angels and God and Heaven, I feel a little better knowing Andrea is up there with them instead of her being here with me. If I'd of just left her be she'd still be alive. Dean, he tells me that kind of thinking doesn't do anybody any good and I know the kid is right but it don't stop it from being the truth, does it?

It'd been so long since I'd even tried to think about Benjamin. It wasn't that I didn't know about Lauren and Fawn, it was that I didn't care and by the time I did care, by the time I'd cleaned up and gone off hunting, by the time Andrea coaxed me back to being more myself and less the Old Man... It had been too long. I took too long and it hurt. It hurt.

I'm standing over her grave and it hurts worse than anything I've ever felt before. Its not just grass, a tombstone, it's a memory of her family standing here on the day she was buried. It's knowing that those same people had to dress and ready her just days before. it's knowing that a week earlier she was alive and they never even knew. It's knowing this happened without me. It's knowing she spent her entire life thinking her Daddy had abandoned her. It's knowing she's gone and there ain't nothing can be done to change that. I wasn't there for her life. All that living she did, my Fawn. She married. She had kids. Her husband's stone is beside her. On the other side is a smaller stone. "Baby Ben" it says and my heart is breaking for my little girl who had to bury her baby before he was 6 weeks old.

What was I supposed to do with that? What do you do when you find out you missed everything important because you didn't care? What do you do when it's too late? How are you supposed to handle that? I went to Andrea. Slowly, slowly, Benjamin was coming back to me. I was coming back to myself and Andrea held my hand the whole time. She knew I was a monster. She knew I was a vampire and she loved me anyway. It wasn't an empty love like the Old Man, it was full and accepting. She was rebuilding me. We were going to make a life together but the Old Man found us and...

Well, he didn't look so hurt when he had me held down kneeling in front of him and he grinned at Andrea while she screamed. He didn't tell me how perfect I was or how much he loved me when he was swinging that blade and the last thing I hear is Andrea calling out, No! screaming through her tears, Benny! The name the Old Man gave me. The name that made me his.

Then after all that, you think you're finally dead but you still ain't done suffering. Not yet. You wake up here, breathing this stale air, walking through these still trees, hearing the crunch of these dead leaves and tasting the bitter sludge in the back of your throat when you tear into another monster and slowly your memories fade once again. Nothing matters but it ain't the hunger this time, it's the haziness of this place seeping into your brain and blotting them out and now it's exactly like forgetting till there is nothing left from before and you don't even know how this all started anymore. Once again, you're changed and it's slow and welcome because ...who the hell are you, anyway?

Then this kid falls into my lap and suddenly this is all coming back and it's not like remembering, it's like drowning when you used to breathe water but you wouldn't climb out of the lake to save yourself because finding out who you are is worth that burning down your throat. It's back and forth and building trust and I'm not even sure what we're doing anymore but this right here? This moment where my arms are wrapped around him and we're standing in this embrace, his heart pumping in my chest. his blood pulsing through my veins. His heat like it's mine and for a moment I'm alive. His pain painted across my face and his heartbreak soaking through to my shoulder, for just a moment, I'm Dean.

For a moment, I'm wholly me.

And I'm changed, again, to the very core.


	10. On the outside looking in

It may have been just a moment or we might have been there a few years, with time like it is, you never know down here but I could spend eternity in this moment and that'd be fine by me. Dean, his breathing jagged, frustration in the form of tears soaking into the shoulder of my jacket. A dark stain of wet pain and this kid is saying "Fuck, man." My arms wrapped around his shoulders and he raised his around my chest and fists the back of my jacket in his hands. He's clinging to me and I'm drowning in his heat, the pulse of it, the beat, the life flowing around me and I hear him saying "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" muffled into the shoulder of my coat.

"I can't do this anymore, man. Benny. I can't." and I'm aware of just how he has wilted into me. I hold him tighter and warmth like flames flicks through me til it is nearly painful and I'm positive that feeling alive shouldn't hurt this much and then it happens. I feel that disturbance, a tiny vibration deep down inside and I'm holding Dean tighter and scanning the trees behind him for a sign. Three's a flash of panic, maybe this close, this kid, maybe he can feel it in me? But it gets stronger, strong enough I think I can feel my heart rattle in my ribs and he's still holding tight and I'm trying to stay relaxed but this vibration is so strong, I know the angel is very close. Dangerously close and only coming closer.

"Dean," I say and run my hand down his back and it's subtle but the air has shifted like suddenly the world is bigger than just the two of us and I can feel him stiffen, turn hard and cold under my touch and it breaks my heart but like a switch thrown we ain't standing here holding on to each other for comfort anymore, we're holding stance and each of us listening hard to the trees around us then his fists relax on my jacket and I can feel his full palm pressed into my back and I'm certain he's feeling the angel's reverberation through me but all he does is tap one finger real intentional. Once. I nod just slightly. A second time and I've got it in my mind where I dropped my blade and just how many movements it would take me to retrieve it. A third time and we are a flurry of motion. He ducks under my arm while I'm spinning to step out to my blade. Within seconds, we are back to back holding our weapons at the ready. I can hardly concentrate, the angel is so near, and the silence pouring out from the woods around us is deafening.

A tense moment passes, and another, but it's just me and the kid in this plot of woods and if it weren't for the way my insides were thrumming, I'd believe what my senses were telling me. Dean sniffs. It's quiet and I'm ashamed as I catch sight of him raise his arm and wipe his eyes with his sleeve. "Benny?" and it's more there than just my name. It sends a flash through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with agony and when my ribs begin to vibrate I start to wonder if the feeling even belonged to me. "Benny?" His tone harsh like I'm some child who isn't responding when called and I step into him so we are touching the back of my shoulders to his again and I say over my shoulder, "There's something out there, sweetheart."

"Are you sure?" It's near a whisper and I can almost feel this kid behind me reaching out into the spaces around us with his hunter senses and coming up empty but this vibration inside me gets stronger, more high pitched, and I'm filled with a sadness so suddenly it takes my breath. It's just a moment, just this tiny glimpse but I see this man flicker right in front of me. He's maybe twenty yards away and staring a hole through me. He's dirty, unshaven, and his long overcoat hangs limp with the muddied effects of time spent in Purgatory. His brow is pinched and it's like he's trying to make me out when he winks out again and I can't see him anymore but I can still feel him there. I reach back and touch Dean on his thigh, to get his attention, but I hold my hand there and I can feel him turning slightly to look over his own shoulder to see what I am seeing. We're stood there frozen, hardly breathing, watching absolutely nothing happen in the dead air in front of us. Everything about this kid is like it's a part of me, my hand on him, his pulse slowed, preparing for attack and quick as it came on the vibrations stop. A part of me relaxes and it's near involuntary but the kid must sense it and, whether it's conscious or not, I can feel him relaxing in response. "What the fuck was all that, Benny?"

I'm still scanning the trees but it's half hearted and I know I'm just stalling. "I thought.. I thought I saw..." but I can't finish the thought and shake my head instead. "It was nothing."

I turn and find myself on the receiving end of this kid's gaze. He's wearing a look that could dissect a person to molecular level and I feel like my every thought is laid bare for him to read. It's difficult not to squirm under that kind of attention but I make myself look away then I hear him sigh. "Why do you lie to me?" he asks and it's an accusation more than a question. I look up, because I owe him that much, and see he's still in a fighting stance, holding his blade. "This," and he swings the point of his blade between us, first pointing to himself and then to me, "isn't going to work if you can't tell me the truth. If I can't trust you, Benny, we may as well part ways now and I'll find my own way out. I want to trust you, man. I really do. Everyone I know lies to me. Sam lies to me. Cas lies to me. Dude, I think even Death lies to me. I just need... I need someone who can tell me the truth. "

He let his blade hang by his side. His eyes still red and raw from wiping tears away. It's in my mind so fresh I can nearly still feel the weight and warmth and passion of him against me and I made a choice.

"I thought I saw your angel."

"No." He says, turning away from me.

"I saw someone." It could have been an apology with the way it sounded to my ears, the way it felt on my own tongue. "He had the long coat you said..."

"No!" He yelled, more than anger pushing the word out. He turned on me, a raging fire encased in stone, his features set yet ablaze and the look in his eyes let me know that he didn't see me as anything special in that moment. He was seeing just any monster that he has encountered during his life and I gripped my blade tighter thinking I ain't made it this far just to have it come to this but I ain't just gonna let him take me out either.

"Brother?" It's a plea for peace as I prepare for him to attack. No wonder everyone lies to him and I'm wondering if his reaction is always to attack the truth like it's his mortal enemy.

"NO! It wasn't Cas! It couldn't have been." He raised that blade, a threat I can't miss. What is going on with this kid? We were just having some honest to God understanding happening and now he's ready to kill me? "Cas wouldn't be this close and not come to me. He wouldn't."

He lifted his face to the sky, that hazed mist and dull canopy of dead and dying leaves, raised his arms in supplication, and called out, "Cas!" He spun his back to me and called again, "Cas!" His voice rough and raw, the sound deep and primal and demanding. "You said you always come when I call, damn it, I am calling you right now you fucking, flitting, feathery... If you can hear me you had best get your ass here!"

He turned again and dropped his arms by his sides and I can see him in profile. The hope and hurt, the need and pain cycling across his features and this one awful tear tracking down his cheek as he screams "CAS!"

The vibration fills my body completely, and in full force, along with the most solid sense of loss I've ever experienced. I watch the dirty angel flicker into view and, of course, he's standing directly behind Dean. He's landed so close, I'm worried Dean might feel a movement of air and turn round to find him there but even the hem of the angel's coat ain't disturbed by any breeze. The air here so stale and stagnant. I grip tighter on my blade, just in case. Dean drops his head, his chin falling to his chest and I can feel the breath he is drawing in, so deep, filling himself up with anything to try and plug that hole, the one letting all this sorrow seep through him. The angel, he cocks his head to the side just a fraction, his brow still pinched but his eyes wide and there is a tangled mess of loss and longing and anger and hate flushing through me with his vibrations. Dean is shaking his head. He mumbles something, "Stupid... stupid, son of a bitch." and the angel's shoulders curl in like he's trying to wrap around the kid. That minuet space between them nearly closes and I think of calling out to Dean but the angel catches my eye and I feel a flood of 'No'. The angel lifts his hand and holds it just above Deans shoulder blade, held just a baby's breath from Dean's jacket. I can feel it, It's all too clear, the only thing this angel wants to do is comfort Dean. He only wants Dean to be safe and happy and He's doing his best to accomplish those goals and it is killing him that He cannot give Dean comfort as well.

I feel a tear slip down my own cheek as I watch Dean cut a look to me, a look that begs why I would ever suggest that his angel would not come to him if he could, and in that same moment the angel looked back to Dean, the deepest sadness in his eyes and he flickered out of sight. My insides still and filled with myself again just as quickly.

"Dean," I choked and tried again. "Dean, I'm sorry. I must have seen something else."

"You must have." He turned away from me again and started to walk forward through the trees. "If he wasn't being held somewhere, Cas would be here. He comes when I call for him."

"I know." I say, softly, falling in step behind him.


	11. Anymore than any other monster

"He doesn't make the best decisions when he's left on his own."

That was this kid's way of explaining the angel's poor fucking excuse of the last few years. He started with Sam's death... Well, the latest one, anyway. I can understand why this kid thinks Death lies to him. Apparently a dead Winchester don't mean much. They don't get rest anymore than any other monster.

He glosses over it. The words are there without emotion like enough time has past he should be okay but it's like he refuses to think about it so when he says "It was Sammy when he fell into the pit." It's like it just happened instead of three years ago and there's a weariness to his words, a little weight dragging each one out and it's like stones pulled up from his stomach when he says "Sometimes, I wish Lucifer had just killed me instead."

Then he talks about his time with Lisa, how he strolls up on her door step and she accepts him in like he ain't broken beyond repair. "She hugged me, man. She held me close and I feel like shit but I remember the first thing I said to her, I asked if she had any whisky." He's shaking his head. "She sat me at her table, in her perfect little apple pie home, across from her kid and I was so..." He's silent for a moment. "I was so empty."

He's got one hand shoved in his jeans pocket, his thumb of his other rubbing the handle of his blade as he's toying with the weight of it, saying, "I couldn't just live, man. I couldn't leave hunting behind." He glances back in the fading light. "I went to live a normal life and took my own fucked up life with me. It don't work like that. I ended up hurting Ben... He was... He is too much like me. If I'd hung around I'd have ended up ruining that kid and his mom no matter how much I..." His voice low, nearly a whisper, like the breath ran out before the idea but I know how he'd have finished, anyway.

Then he is telling me about Sam coming back into his life, changed and without his soul. He's telling me about Crowley and hunting the Fathers of Demons and how his angel was behaving strange.  
"When you know somebody, Benny, I mean really know 'em, you know when somethings wrong. "

He's talking about "The Darkside" and Death putting up a wall in Sam's head to protect his soul from the memories of hell and I remember a story Dean said about how he had to go to parent teacher conferences for Sam and I wonder if his father had of gone to a few for him if these kids would have had a simpler life. It's all such bullshit but I know how life goes so I listen and it doesn't matter that I already know where this is going- Dean needs to get it out.

Eventually, he gets to the meat of it and I ain't even sure he knows it but he says a lot of words to keep from saying what needs be said.

"I begged him not to do it." he's saying and I'm shaking my head. It's no wonder he's waited till now, while we are in the darkest part of the forest, to share this with me. Maybe he feels hidden or protected but I can see him clearly and I don't know that he can see me but maybe that's all he needs is to know he's being heard and not see any reaction. This kid, heaven forbid he show a weakness. "He asked me to stand behind him. He asked me to trust him but I couldn't." I can hear it, he wants to sound angry, like maybe the angel was just a stupid shit for not listening and doing what Dean told him to do but I can see how he's lowering his head as he walks, shame and disappointment hanging from his shoulders and I want to reach out to him, brush that burden from his back but I don't. It's not what he wants.

It's pitch black for him but he refuses to let me lead, his pride or his stubbornness forcing us through underbrush when I can see a cleaner, easier path just a few steps away. He's breaking a way through by feel alone and I follow him. It's a slow process, letting him guide us blind, but if I try to help, if I step ahead or take his hand it'd be worse so I just follow him and listen and keep my mouth shut about low hanging branches because he finds them on his own.

It's an agonizingly slow process.

He's half way through some something, empty words about details that he knows don't matter and it's the first I've interrupted him, "Brother?" He pauses, looking back toward me, but his eyes land just over my shoulder. "Yeah?" and I'm feeling a little warmth down just below my chest because he doesn't flinch away or correct me, he just answers and waits. "Just who are you praying to when you go off by yourself?"

"I ain't praying," he says but there's an anger etched in lines along his brow that would let me know otherwise even if I hadn't heard the prayers myself. I shrug, then remember he can't see me.

"I heard you one time."

"What'd you hear?" he demands, leaning toward my voice but looking through me into the darkness.

"Nothing much," and I'm trying to be casual but I got to know. "Just you saying we was coming to get him. Who are we trying to catch up to down here, Dean? This angel we're after? That's your Cas?"

Dean's dead silent and still till he takes a breath. He shifts slightly, checks his blade, glances around the darkness. "He's ... he's not... _my_... It's Cas, yeah. I thought you understood?" It's like he's apologizing for something more than maybe this miscommunication between us.

"Oh," I say, and the words feel like honey straight from the comb, bees still crawling over the surface, smooth and sweet and painful. "I understand, Dean."

He nods, shifting weight again, this little dance he does that's near cute to see.

"There's no chance of getting to the escape hatch without him, then?"

He reacts just how I'd expected. Draws himself up straight and pulls his blade up, pointing it where he hears me, but he's speaking to the depths of darkness. "None." His voice even, he sniffs then turns away from me again.

I hear them before he does, but just barely. The rustling of leaves and the quick, heavy foot fall of a pack of monsters. It's some of purgatory's finest finally come to hunt down that Heartbeat in the night. "Dean, get down!" I say, hoping he'll just duck away and be safe but he growls this primal "You get down," as he pulls that blade up, both hands gripping the handle, and holds it just over his shoulder like he's some kid playing baseball on the dirt field behind the school and I just think, fuck it, and duck down. I back out and land myself in a spot just by this tree where I'm watching, it's like I'm not even here, the monsters are so focused on Dean and the rush of his heat, the pounding of his heartbeat and the scent of his blood. It's something I've gotten used to, like the taste of sea air, it's just part of being near him but I'm watching him and he's completely relaxed. This first monster comes at him from his side and Dean must hear him, he turns so swift the blade slashing through without hesitation and the monster drops. Dean Winchester is like water rushing in a creek the way he moves, his hunter senses reached out in anticipation, and pulls his blade back up in time to have the second monster run straight into it. As she falls to her knees, Dean presses his foot to her chest and pushes her back, pulling his blade out then swinging it to take off her head. I'm watching his shoulders round and roll as he listens and waits for the next monster who, I can see, is running, step, step up between two trees, planning to fall on Dean from above. As this smart little shit throws himself from a branch above Dean, I start to pray, that silent type we did with Fawn before meals back when believing in God and praying to him was just something we did without thought, like cleaning a fresh kill or holding a newborn baby close and breathing in the scent of new life that lingers on them for a few weeks...Now I don't know what I believe but I know Dean believes in the angel and I know this angel knows about me.

_Castiel, we got ourselves a problem, man._

Dean moves, this spin out from under the monster as he's falling. He swings the blade and misses. This monster catches him by the ankle, pulling him down.

_I'm supposed to get him out._

_He ain't leaving without you._

Dean struggles, laying on his back in the leaves, the monster pulling him closer, climbing on top of him. Dean's dropped his blade but that don't mean shit.

_I know, Cas. I get it._

The monster makes like he's going to bite Dean just as Dean gets his hands on his blade. He raises the edge just catching the monster in the mouth. The monster pulls back just enough to give Dean the space he needs to swing. Another head rolling on the ground before he knows what hit him. Dean pushes the limp body off where it'd knelt straddling him. He wipes his brow with the sleeve of his coat and it doesn't do much, it's a reflex more than necessary. The kid hasn't sweated since he touched down here. I start to clap my hands, slow like. Dean peers into the darkness in the direction of the sound. He smiles this dopey smile that makes me laugh.

"Sam won't believe that just happened even if you could tell him about it, Benny!" He laughs.

I'm chuckling as I get up to join him. "You'll have to introduce us sometime so I can." Dean laughs even harder as he blindly reaches out for me. I raise my hand up and grab his from the air, watching his face closely but he's just plain happy. He's flushed and grinning and even as our palms press together and my fingers have threaded through his, he's just pure joy, this ripple of contented warmth pooling around us and it's one of those moments when I'm thankful time don't work here because I could live in this moment for an eternity.

_It's up to you, Angel, but if you want Dean out of here..._

"I don't know about you but I can't see a damn thing." He turns, letting his hand fall to rest at his side, pulling mine with him. He lets go, the fire in my palm cooling enough to leave me feeling hollow but he's just changing how his hand is in mine so he's just behind me, fingers still entwined with mine.

"I know." I say and he laughs, the sound full and loud.

"Why am I doing all the damn work? You lead us out of this night, man."

I step forward and his fingers wrap tighter around my hand, the gentlest pressure, following my lead, and he's looking down, not even trying to hide this big stupid grin still on his face. Even in the dark, I could count his every freckle.

_...we gotta do something._


	12. What have I become?

"I hurt myself today…" His voice deep and like worn sandpaper. A kind of roughness that makes me think of thorny bushes growing in the middle of a creek. He's beside me but just behind me but it don't matter because he's held on to me, relaxed and trusting. Everything about him like a siren in the night. Everything about him calling out, announcing him for miles around and he couldn't care less. When he sings it's like he's forgotten he's not alone, like his armor drops and he's just Dean, some kid just left behind and he's in no hurry to catch up. I've got that reassuring warmth of his hand in my hand, his fingers curled through mine and it's like his heat is seeping into me, his heartbeat thrumming in my veins, every moment making me more him... more his. I can feel how content he is. The adrenalin from the fight wearing out of his system and the kid is so impressed with himself he's floated through the last few miles just grinning to himself.

He'd been humming the tune for a while before he started singing. I don't recognize it but the tone is familiar. "To see if I still feel." He's moving steady with me and there is little underbrush here and since he's passive, following my lead, it's been an easy stroll through this part of the forest. The light beginning to creep in around us, a subtle glow hazing through the fog and canopy above us and it's nearly light enough he shouldn't need to have hold of me to guide him but he doesn't seem in any hurry to let me go. It's eerily quiet around us. Now, this kid, he lets the words escape clinging to their notes, "I focus on the pain." I glance over in time to see a momentary wince play across his features. It's the way his shoulders curl. The way he dips his head to the side like maybe he's trying to hide from only God knows who. It's the way his nose scrunches and his eyes close like the words are a painful reminder that he has little else to focus on but the next breath is solid, the notes true, "The only thing that's real."

He looks up, catching my eyes, catching me looking back at him and he smiles this little twitch of his lips that makes me want to throw myself off a steep cliff but that flutter breaking out in my chest anchors me here and I just smile, reflecting back the ease and contentment Dean's showing me. He hums a few bars of his song and I swear I can feel it in my chest, the vibration of the notes pulling through his throat and out of my heart just this steady buzzing inside until I realize it's not Dean I'm feeling at all, it's the angel and I have to force myself not to tense up. Deans singing, quietly now, but there's a pleasure to his tone and when I tighten my fingers around his hand as I guide him along, I catch another smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he forms the words. Now, I know the angel is near, though. Now, I know he's listening. I can feel him.

"What have I become," the tune almost pretty but the vibration inside me, the one heralding the angel, climbing in pitch till I'm fighting my every reaction when this kid, his hand still relaxed in mine, sings, " my sweetest friend?" and the words are so tender, so sweet, I'm filled with this anguish, this sorrow so intense I know it ain't mine.  _Angel?_  I'm thinking and it might be a prayer, just a question sent out, but that vibration is stronger, strong enough I'm starting to feel dizzy.  _Cas, I can feel you._  and just like that the vibration cuts out like a candle snuffed by an unexpected gust of wind. I'm sure he's gone again like he does but there's still this sorrow in my gut, this ache and anger and pain I'm pretty sure ain't me.  _Stay_ , I plead to him.

"Everyone I know goes away," Dean pauses, long enough to draw a shuddering breath, and I'm filled with this longing to wrap myself around him and for the first time I'm not sure if it's the angel's or my own, " in the end."

"You could have it all. My empire of dirt." This kid, this kid. His voice is starting to waver, the notes to shake, and I slow our pace but I don't look his way. I don't want to see this, this crash of emotion. This low after the high of the fight. Father, brother, hunter, husband, friend, Dean Winchester is an emotional gamble either way you deal the hand. I feel it, his heart beat quickening, his breath rate hitching, and though he holds true to the tune, I know he's faltering. I know it's happening to him and I feel it happening to the angel. It's a phantom feeling, this itch between my shoulder blades like the stretching out, expansion of power and safety and I'm overwhelmed with this need to wrap that feeling around , the angel is overwhelmed with that feeling. I'm just feeling him feel it.

"I will let you down. I will make you hurt." His voice falling deep, digging the notes from the ground itself, "hurt" comes out like the blade of a knife, instant regret and sorrow coursing through with the realization of death. It's loss, that note, and it drags out with a sadness raw and pure. I feel him slowing, then stop, the gentle tug in my hand as he pulls away. I'm left cold. When I turn, he's got his face upturned to the canopy above. He's got his eyes closed and he's taking a deep, steady breath.

"Dean?" I ask, watching him try to still himself. The smallest glow of light filters around him and it seems to shine but this shadow left over from the night clings to him, darkening his features. "Talk to me?" I say aloud, while mentally begging the angel  _Listen. Listen. Listen._

"That's all I do, man. Hurt the people I care about. Let them down. I've spent my whole life taking care of Sammy and I let him go to hell. I left him on his own and he teams up with a demon. I let him walk around without a soul. I've tried to keep Cas safe and he winds up working with Crowley, and killing other angels, and doubting God. I mean, they told me that Cas just touching me when he pulled me from Hell corrupted him. It's like no matter how hard I try or what I do... I fail. Benny, I'm a fuck up."

He's gazing up into the trees like the patterns of the leaves might give him some kind of message, then he blinks, looking away. I can smell the salt in his tears, a memory of how they taste is on the tip of my tongue and I'm the one shifting weight trying to hide that I know he's crying. There's this emptiness hollowed out inside me with a niggling of anger at the edges. _Listen. Listen to him._  I'm praying, the thoughts feel accusing and harsh even to me.  _If you care about this kid, you listen to him. Hear him_. Another wave of sorrow washes through me but I can't muster up any sympathy for the angel. What's going on between him and Dean I can't pretend to understand but what he's doing to Dean makes me want him to suffer.

"I know you're taking me to the way out, Benny," Dean looks at me, his voice firm, gaze unwavering, wet tracks down his face, "and I know you're doing that so you can get out but you got to understand, I ain't leaving without him. Cas is here. He's here and he ain't answering me. He ain't coming when I pray for him. That means he's in trouble and ... I got to get him. I can't leave him. "

The angel hardens, I can feel it, an ache, an anger, a determination like a wall of heat building up. It's more forceful than I intend when I say, "You ain't responsible for him, brother."

"He's... important to me. I won't lose him!" A force in his tone that dares me to argue with him. "...Not again." He adds and the emptiness I feel is from me, now. The angel blinking out, leaving me to myself. Leaving me to Dean. Leaving this kid to me, again, and I'm more confused than ever.

"Okay, brother. We'll find him." I say, stepping toward him. He's staring off into the woods ahead, his eyes glazed over with thought but when I reach to take his hand again, to feel that familiar weight in mine, to warm near him, to walk with him in comfort and trust again, He focuses on me, his eyes a dare and stony with confrontation. He looks beyond me, then moves in that direction, smoothly stepping around where I stand in his path. His shoulder brushes against mine as he passes and it's the second time I want to take a desperate fall from a tall peak but this time it ain't nothing to do with his perfections and everything to do with his cracks and faults and it's a welcome sigh of thankfulness that escapes me when I hear the distant rustling of leaves. I know when I turn I'll see Dean raising his blade, preparing to fight. I know I'll see him hard, and cold, and the words already packed behind his pursed lips. "Where's the angel?"

"Where's the angel?"

As I raise my own blade, as I turn to join this kid, as I prepare to hear him ask them "Where's the angel?" I can't help but think _Fuck the angel_.


	13. He don't deserve this

_Fuck the angel_ , I think, and these two monsters come at us from the forest. I can hear Dean's grunt of laughter at seeing these two vampires coming at us alone. He's cocky and ready to fight and I'm right here with him, where he expects me to be, as this female vamp runs at him and he side steps her like it's nothing, letting her run right at me while he slams into the second vamp. I watch him, maybe for a moment too long, the way he wraps his arms around the monster and lifts him bodily from the ground and suddenly she's on me, the one the kid let pass and she's got me on the ground before I can stop her. She's clawing at my face, her fangs out, and there's this manic little giggle playing from her lips. It's just a moment, but in Purgatory it could have been days, She's on top of me and I'm just laying, knees bent. I've caught her wrists tightly grasped in my hands, trying to protect my face when she laughs again, leans into me, bundles of nearly black curls falling in a curtain around us, her face a breath from mine and I notice her eyes, this blistering blue, right as she moves, I think, to rip at my neck but that's not what she does and it catches me off guard completely when her lips touch mine, a hungry hostile force pressing against me. Maybe it's the time, maybe it's just me, maybe it's just her, maybe it's just Dean eight feet away with his blade to her companion's throat but I let go of her wrists and tangle my fingers into her hair and kiss her back just as vicious. Her fingernails in my hair, scratching at my scalp, and then there's her weight on me, her frame smaller but she's straddled my waist and her chest lays against mine but for that moment we're just lips and hands and hair, two bodies moving in sync, where she's lifted her hips and rolled herself back onto me in this way that rattles me to my core.

Then I hear the kid say it from somewhere outside of this monster and me, "Where's the angel?" Those words that have been bound up just behind his teeth waiting to slice into the next unfortunate creature Dean catches in his grasp. Where's the fucking angel, indeed, and that deprivation in his tone jerks me back to this monster, her hair in my hands and how she's just me without the kid and I squeeze my eyes shut against this burning building there when I tighten my hold on her hair and yank hard, pulling her up and away and off of me, the stale Purgatory air rushing in to fill the void she leaves. It takes some work, dragging her off to the side, rolling up on an elbow and hauling myself up on top of her. She's kicking, thrashing, snarling under me and I can't decide if she's sure if we're fighting or fucking anymore but I know and it's this hot itch behind my eyes when I'm looking down on her and I hear this carnal hum purring in Dean's chest as he slides his blade across his monsters cheek, threatening him and enjoying it.

Then it's there, I'm crying, these tears of blood streaming down my face, and there's nothing to be said or done, they're just there, unbidden, like the first unwelcome snap of cold rolling in from the north or the tell tale drops of rain warning an impending storm and it's just warmth, the only warmth I have, stolen from someone else and coursing through my veins but it's escaping in little rivers that overflow my eyelashes and I feel it fucking pull itself up from my chest and over each lash and down across the dirt on my face and all I can do is pull another breath in, hard, like the air is solid, suddenly, and I can taste Dean's heat, the passion, the confidence, the want of it thick and heavy in the air around us then again on my tongue and it's all I got. It's all I got. It's all I got except this monster pinned to the ground. She's meat and muscle and bone and gunk and it's awful I even see it but her face is still pretty, the kind of pretty that would get her married quick, the kind of pretty that would give her lots of children, the same kind of pretty that would get her turned into a vampire. The kind of pretty that'll land her in Purgatory and eventually get her back pushed into the dirt, with my legs straddling her chest, my knees pinning her arms to the ground and even with her teeth out and her voice just this predatory growl, a snarl pulling her lips, I'm struck by the line of her jaw and shine in her eyes.

I cry, the thick and metal sting building in my vision, as I drop the blade into her chest and listen to the feral screams erupting from her mouth, piercing the air around us with jagged pricks of burgundy. She's just some vamp like me, just some monster to find her way in front of me but it's the fill of her lips, the squint in her eyes, the curl in her dark hair that digs up this need to destroy her. Maybe it's the blue shining in her iris, the only part of her that seems to have survived the dulling effects of purgatory and I want to claw her eyes from her face. It ain't personal, no, it's Purgatory but I get this flare of hostility when her eyes cut away from me and land on Dean's back and her screaming snarl shifts into an obscene grin as she cuts a knowing look back to me, catching my eyes and that too bright blue seems to twinkle in the dim light and I watch as a single dull red drop slips from my eye and lands on her face.

I cry, turning my head and watching Dean swing his blade, the way his body moves like it was pulled from the very earth and molded to do nothing else, the violence like a reflex up there with his breathing and heart beating and fucking body heat and I'm reminded why I'm here and why I'm still here and why I stay here with the way his blade connects with monster flesh. The swing rolling through him from his feet up in a motion so smooth like ice on the ocean. He's got his own monster pinned up against a tree, Dean's body pressed tight against his victim, and he's near whispering to him, "You're gonna tell me about the angel," he's saying and I can almost feel his breath warming the cheek and tender ear lobe of his prey. It's his guilty pleasure, interrogation this way, who'm I to deny him that? He wouldn't say it but I've seen enough to know that closeness is something he craves and he'd rather take it from a monster than accept it willingly from anyone, from me. This kid.

I cry knowing there's not a god damned thing I can do to help him here when he don't want out without his angel and his angel don't want found and it's the most frustrating thing I've experienced in half a century so I turn my attention back to those sapphire blues and swing my blade again against this monster's broken chest, cracking through bone and body to that sludge inside and I'm angry but my vampire teeth cut through my gums and it's reflex, a fucking reflex like blinking but it makes me hate everything about myself. She's screaming fresh and it's the only thing that feels right, the way I reach into her chest and touch her dead, stilled heart. It's cold, and hard, and heavy with putrid blood; just like mine. Just like mine. I rub my thumb between the two chambers, gathering sludge on the print, and it's me there on the ground, and it's my heart exposed and it's Dean's hands in my chest and I grab her face with my other hand, force her to look at me, show her the gunk I scrapped from her heart and lick it off my thumb while she watches. She bucks under me, her face twisted, her eyes wild and she screams.

I cry, this fresh red falling on her face as I hold her in place. It happens, this snap, and all I want is to stop her, I roll my shoulders back, gasping for breath and dive at her neck. Pressing her head hard to the side, she's fighting up against me but I'd won this battle long before she stepped out into my path. I rip her throat open, tearing at the tendons and meat because my head is pounding with her screaming even though she stopped now long ago and all I can hear is Dean somewhere behind me, "Where's the angel?" and there's this fresh blood smearing from my cheeks onto her cheeks and it's enough to make me want to chuckle or scream myself but I can't step out of the moment long enough to manage either one.

I cry, wipe the blood from my face on my coat sleeve, dragging the dirty fabric across my skin like maybe it'll clean more than just this shame from me and I know Dean's cried, that humanity in him pushed up against his every breath and every blink in those moments when he's broken, lost and angry but there's a purity to those clean, clear salty drops that can wash away the shit of purgatory when these vampire tears only cover me with a ruse of reassurance, a mask to separate us further. _A fucking reminder, Benny, you're a vampire. You're a monster and he will kill you as soon as save you._  Whatever this is I feel for this kid, he don't and that's that.

I cry, hiding a fresh fucking sob, god damn the way it shudders in my chest when I toss her head aside, finally pulled from any means to scream and I'm haunted by the way her eye lids are frozen open, that vibrant blue stilled but ain't dulled a bit and though her face is covered in blood and a good three feet from her body, I'm stuck on how she's still so pretty and how life ain't fair. She didn't deserve this. Dean don't deserve this. I don't deserve this.

I don't deserve this.

I cry, knelt here above what's left of this monster, head bowed, my chin tucked to my chest and I'm struggling to catch my breath when I hear Dean wrapping up his questioning, this sound of his blade cutting through the air, slicing through throat, lodging in tree bark and the crumpling of his monster. I've pushed myself up, and I'm walking away before Dean's turned his attention my way.

I cry, this well an uncharted depth, and I keep moving away from him because he doesn't need to see me like this but Dean's following me, quick, "Benny!" and even now, when he says my name, it pulls another gasp for breath and there's these fresh bloody tears down my face. I never wanted to out run him, so I stop, I lean a shoulder against some tree that just happens to be there, like every other tree in this place, they're the only constant besides the monsters and the fighting, and the kid catches up with just a few steps. "Benny! Did she get you? DID SHE GET YOU?" He's yelling, his voice deeper, colored with concern as he moves in front of me, grabbing my shoulders, his eyes a flurry over my face, then traveling across my chest and shoulders, arms and legs. "Where!" He demands and this is where I can step back and chuckle, but it's more a cough, a strangled breath and he's looked up at me this worry creased into his brow. His fingers trail across my cheek, following the line of bone under my eye, his thumb pulling against the grain of the hair along my jaw line, leaving this blazing burn across my flesh, he pulls them away freshly wet and darkly red. This kid, his eyes wide he says "Benny, are you okay?"

I cry because I got nothing. I got nothing to offer this kid because I feel the farthest from okay that I might have ever felt and his concern for me just makes it hurt worse but there he stands just staring at me wearing this face, eyes wide, mouth just open and waiting then he demands, "Talk to me!"

It's this tilt of my head in the direction of the vampires we've left behind us in pieces. "I'm a monster, Dean," I choke out, the bitter taste of blood rolling down my lips and into my mouth.

"Yeah? And?" The question so simple, his expression so pure, like he can't see the problem with the statement, with the fact, and I just roll my eyes up to the canopy, just to have somewhere else to look and I breathe deep, the first solid breath I've taken since the angel last fucked off when this kid, he says, "We all are, Buddy." And somehow, even though it isn't what I want to hear, it's what he says and It's what I've got. It's all I've got. That and the fact that Dean's turned away, shaking his head, moving forward and calling back over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go pray, man, while you..." He leaves the rest unsaid, waving his hand in the air as he steps around and between some trees out of my sight.

 


End file.
